A Journey, Not a Destination.

Life is a journey, not a destination. Often as a synonym to “enjoy the ride!” – I never really understood the quote until now.

In previous posts on this blog, I alluded to my July 2018 being rough and definitely a turning point in my life. Over the course of the month, my roommate told me she wanted to move into her own place, a relationship ended, and the company I had worked at for almost 4 years told me it was time to move on to bigger and better things. Within days of each other, three of my basic needs – a place to rest at night, (financial) security, and a relationship – were flipped upside down. In July, it sucked. But, I went for Florida for a few days to visit my friend and give my brain a break.

In August, some of it still sucked. I was officially funemployed with no end in sight. I had a bit of a financial buffer which allowed me to find some tranquility amidst the chaos I was feeling. I went to Western Maryland to celebrate my friend’s birthday, took myself to the movies a few times, went on bike rides, and spent time with friends. It was certainly fun and the ability to have unstructured days was incredibly welcomed, especially for someone who’s intention for 2018 was to learn to rest.

In September, it was still fun. I went to Rochester to visit my friend and her husband and meet their new daughter. It was a mini road trip by myself and for myself. My friend and I signed up for the second level of glassblowing – a guarantee that, if nothing else, I’d have at least 3 and a half hours of happiness each week. I enjoyed weekly yoga and sangha at my friends house, connecting with other musical, artistic, wonderful souls. I celebrated birthdays, attended musical and theater performances, and, as always, spent time with friends.

During this time, I continued to apply to jobs while also thinking about whether it was time to go to grad school, travel, or do something else. In October, I started to get a little more anxious. The financial buffer was gone but I was doing freelance writing which kept my mind working and my wallet sort of happy. I went to more music nights and theater performances, learned to brew kombucha, went to the opera, saw friends, and saw one of my favorite poets live. Although I was enjoying all of these things, I was feeling a bit awkward when the topic of jobs would come up and I had to mention that I wasn’t working. And, even though I was spending money on things that kept me sane, the $10 and $20 nights were adding up.

November was my first month in a rather empty apartment. My roommate moved out at the end of October and I was going to be moving at the end of November (which later became the end of December). The first weekend of the month I had a roommate, my 4-year-old godson. A little different than a 20-year-old but having another person in the apartment was a needed distraction and certainly brought me joy. I didn’t have much time to think after that first weekend. My birthday in mid-November usually means I’m celebrating for the first half of November. Having friend’s over to my apartment for puzzle nights and as a home base before leaving for activities in DC was great. But the moments of chatter and laughter were followed by my internal alarm system alerting me that some leaky valves needed to be fixed…and soon. I was functioning on autopilot, what used to feel like fun activities suddenly felt like my only lifeline to feeling like myself so I did them without fully feeling what I was doing.

Late November and December, also known as “the holidays”, hit and I had to decide whether to stay in my apartment for another month and gamble on having a job by then or whether to move out. Ultimately, I decided to stay for another month, figuring I’d enjoy the time I had left. It was also important to me to have my own space to rejuvenate before going into the pandemonium of seeing family members. And not just any family member, the family members you only see during the holidays and who want an update on your life. By this point in my funemployment, and the compression of one family gathering after another, it was exhausting to come up with different versions of “I’m not working right now but I’m happy and well and am okay.” It seemed that all others wanted to know was where was I working and living. As soon as I started to talk about the other fun things I had been doing, their eyes glazed over. I may be doing some revisionist history here but that’s what I remember it feeling like.

When the middle of December came around and I knew I wasn’t going to be staying in my apartment beyond the end of the year, I began to pack my apartment and come to terms with moving back to my parents’ house in Baltimore County. For the record – it was moving to the suburbs that this city girl had to come to terms with.

I moved and survived. And I cocooned as January and February flew by. I continued to apply to jobs and was beginning to enjoy my unstructured days again. And the comments continued to come – friend after friend, relative after relative, wondering if I was working yet or if I was still living the funemployed bum life. Commenting that I could “just get a job”, wondering if I was okay financially, hoping I was going to find a job that I loved soon, wondering “what was new” with me. While I appreciated the sentiments, it was exceptionally annoying to have variations of the same conversations. It seemed like people didn’t – or couldn’t – talk about the books they were reading or a new activity they were learning or a project they needed help with. Perhaps they weren’t reading, weren’t learning new things, and weren’t working on projects. Perhaps my face looked irritated enough that they decided to leave me alone. Perhaps I was floating along in my own bubble and didn’t enthusiastically talk about all of the other things I had explored.

Every few days I would have an internal crisis. Wondering if all of these applications would result in anything. Wondering if this was some sign that I should pick up and move elsewhere for a little while. Wondering if I should suck it up, take the GREs, and apply to grad schools. Wondering if I should move to France and become a glassblower like I had dreamed about in July. Wondering if I’d ever have anything to show for myself.

Wondering if I’d ever have anything to show for myself? Ha. I had plenty to show for myself. I had plenty of adventurous stories, plenty of life experiences, plenty of work- and non-work related accomplishments. And space for many more adventures, life experiences, and accomplishments. Much to society’s chagrin, I didn’t and don’t need a job to make me feel accomplished.

“But what about supporting yourself?”

Yes, supporting myself is important. And that would come. I was able to pause certain expenses and was mindful of other recurring expenses. I wasn’t jumping to attend every book talk or music event that caught my eye. And, I was sure that either the universe would give in or I’d give in and eventually my bank account would have more of a flow to it. If anything, the worry was in losing myself in some job again as I had done for the last few years. Or in losing what I had learned about balance and rest. I wasn’t worried about how I was going to support myself. (Big props to the parents who let their adult kids move back in with them, you’re appreciated and seen.)

Over the eight months of my funemployment, I applied to 65 jobs and received around 11 emails asking for a phone interview. The one I accepted was the 46th position I applied to. While that’s a lot of applications and cover letters, this time and these lessons were needed – here are a few of them.

1. It’s okay and important to have fun in times of stress

The glassblowing, yoga, music, bike riding, and time with friends gave me the momentum to keep doing what I needed to do. And it helped me continue to feel like a whole person in a society that always wants to know “what do you do?”.

2. Rumors are true: you don’t need to see the whole road. Take one step, and then another. And then another. The rest of the road will come.

There were many instances where I felt completely out of control and pretty bummed that “I wasn’t doing it right”. Some of my peers were getting married, buying houses, and having kids. Others were accepting new jobs, getting promoted, or starting their own business. I wasn’t doing any of that. I wasn’t sure what I was doing.

3. Rest – and enjoy the rest

It took me a bit of time to feel less guilty about sleeping a little longer than usual or about having days where I was home all day. But, eventually, resting became kind of fun. Especially if it meant reading a book or playing music throughout the house.

4. Don’t feel like you have to explain yourself to others

A side effect of this time was the shrinking of my web of friends. The friendships that stressed me out weeded themselves out. The family members who only seemed interested in me and my work fell by the wayside. And relationships deepened with the friends and family members who were a constant support.

5. It’s okay and important to ask for help and share how I’m feeling

Especially with the family and friends who are always there. Asking for help can be hard. Talking about the bad days or the things that cause anxiety can be scary. But, I’m learning that just as I love to help people (especially those I care deeply about), people want to help me. We need our support systems to get us through the harder times of life.

And so, while life may be going back to the 9 to 5 schedule for the time being, I’ve learned that it’s all part of the journey.